


Coming together

by MelindaCoulson4



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Drowning, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-06
Updated: 2017-03-06
Packaged: 2018-09-28 16:52:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10140200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MelindaCoulson4/pseuds/MelindaCoulson4
Summary: Prompt from tumblr: "please please for a short drabble where May rescues Coulson from drowning and saves his life when he isn't breathing and they finally kiss for real afterwards smut ensues"





	

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warning: (1) talk of knives/being cut, (2) drowning
> 
> Warning: Smut

"Okay Daisy, to your left," she relays into the comm.  
  
She stares hard at the laptop screen in front of her, watching as a little blue SHIELD icon quickly moves across the screen.  
  
Her hand reaches towards her outstretched right leg, intending to massage the muscle.   
The calf muscle there has been twitching painfully for the last twenty minutes. The pain medicine that Simmons prescribed has been wearing off for a while now. Earlier, she had been able to ignore the ache with all of the excitement of preparing for this operation. But now, sitting in this chilly metal van all by herself, the leg wound was all she could think about.   
  
"Anything?" She asks Daisy.   
  
She waits for a couple of seconds, yet still receives no response. _Only static._    
  
That means that the comms went down. This seemed to always happen. The technology was not reliable at all, that's why she prefers to be out in the field where there were no delays, just real-life action.   
  
"Damn it," she mutters as the whole screen flashes to black.   
  
After a moment, the map of the marina pops back up with blue, yellow, and purple SHIELD icons. She studies the icons carefully. Something is different. There's one less icon. Where's Phil's?  
  
"All teams check in," she demands, driven solely by anxiousness. _What the hell just happened?_  
  
"Blue one, here." Okay, that's YoYo.   
  
"Blue two, here." That's Daisy.   
  
"Purple one, here." Fitz.  
  
"Purple two, here." Simmons.   
  
Now, it should be Phil checking in.   
  
But all she hears is silence among the comm.   
  
"Yellow one...check in," she orders. The worry begins to grab a hold of her now.   
  
_More static._  
  
"Hey Coulson, if you haven't noticed that's you," Daisy jokes, always trying to keep things light-hearted.   
  
Still, they receive not even a word from Coulson.   
  
"Yellow two, here," Mac's voice hits her ear. "I don't have a visual on him."  
  
"Does anyone have eyes on Coulson?" She asks, already knowing the answer.   
  
"Coulson, come in," she begs.   
  
They were currently chasing an inhuman named Henry Caine who has been creatively named The Lizard. This was due to his ability to blend in with any surroundings. Technically, he should be named the chameleon, but the media had already made their choice after the first sighting. He was fast, dangerous, and relatively invisible, which made her fear for what he could've possibly done to Coulson.   
  
"Coulson!" She calls again on the comms.   
  
That was his last chance. She can't sit in here anymore with his life possibly in danger. She sets the laptop to the side and scoots herself over to the van doors, pushing them open. The pain in her leg intensifies at the sudden movement.   
  
She slides herself out of the back and lands with both feet on the grass.   
  
She bites back a groan of pain. The stab wound would probably break open again, but she wasn't going to let that stop her.   
  
"Damn it, Phil," she mutters. Anger would help her push past the increasing ball of anxiety in her stomach.  
  
"May, what are you doing?" Jemma asks through the comm.   
  
Melinda rolls her eyes. Of course, Jemma would somehow sense what she was doing. She was simply breaking the promise that Jemma had all but forced her to make while she was good and drugged up in the SHIELD recovery bay.   
  
_Oh well_. She was first in line to command when Coulson was unavailable. So this is her command now. "He was last on the dock. I'm going to look for him. Everyone else hold your positions. Keep looking for Caine," she orders, her tone leaving no room for exceptions.   
  
Gritting her teeth, she pushes herself off of the van's bumper and begins running towards the dock. Well, if you could even consider what she was doing as running. It was more of a quick limp, hop, and then jog. If she would've been sliced instead of stabbed this would all be much easier, but some jackass watchdog had plunged a serrated knife into her calf almost down to the bone and then ripped it back out. Jemma had told her she should be on bed rest for a month, but that was never going to work anyway.   
  
Her boots pound on the wooden deck as she awkwardly shuffles around. If The Lizard was around here, he would definitely hear her coming.   
  
All she can hear is the rhythmic sound of waves crashing against the underside of the boats.   
  
There are boats everywhere, impeding her line of sight in every direction. It's going to take much longer than she anticipated to search this whole place for Phil. She unholsters her gun and points it in front of her as she reaches the end of the first row of boats.    
  
A sudden crashing followed by yelling hits her ear through the comms. "He's in blue territory!" comes YoYo's breathless voice.   
  
"Tracking him now!" Daisy chimes in, after a moment.   
  
"Got it," she responds.   
  
YoYo and Daisy could handle the inhuman.   
  
After rounding the hull of another boat, her toe catches on something. She glances down, thinking it may be something that could lead her to Phil, she’s merely met with a plastic bag. _Damn it_. She kicks it off and continues her sweep. "Phil!" She calls. Maybe if he figures out that she's close, calling out to her would be made easier or he could try to make some type of noise.  
  
"Phil!" She yells again.   
  
After ten minutes of nothing, she happens to pass a two passenger speed boat and spots something next to it in the water. She points her gun at it, only to realize that it's a body floating face down in the lake. She knows that black jacket and dark grey pants. Its Phil.   
  
He's not moving.   
  
Her heart just about explodes at the sight.   
  
"Phil!" She screams, barely able to get the words out.   
  
Her hands drop the gun immediately and she dives into the water without hesitation.   
  
She pries her eyes open under the water and sees that she's surrounded by murky green-tinted water. Luckily, Phil is a mere 10 feet away. She uses her arms to propel herself towards him. She tries to kick both of her legs, but the right one is already burning with pain from the contact with water.   
  
Her hands reach for his arm as she breaks to the surface, sucking in a breath of air. She grips his jacket tightly in her hand as she flips his body over in the water so his face is turned towards the sky.   
  
"Phil," she calls to him shakily, hoping by some miracle that he would respond.   
  
She begins pulling his body towards the dock, searching for a way to climb up and get him to safety. She prides herself on being strong, but hulling his body while swimming with a less than perfect leg was difficult. Not to mention the way her nerves are lighting up all throughout her body. She can sense the shaking of her elbows and hands as she clutches onto his soaked jacket.  
  
Somehow, there's a metal ladder hanging off the side of the speed boat and it's just within her reach.   
  
Her sopping wet clothes weigh her down as she tries to drag Phil up the ladder with her. Her muscles burn with the effort, but she's able to get him high enough that she can fall backwards into the boat and position him on top of her.   
  
She moves onto her hands and knees and leans over his body, water dripping everywhere around them.   
  
"Phil," she calls hysterically. He hasn't moved this whole time. She lifts a hand to his face, slapping his cheek with no response. His face rolls to the side. He’s out cold. 

 _He’s not breathing._  
  
Her fingers pull his head over and tilt it back. She pries his mouth open and bends over his body, giving him a couple of rescue breaths. This is not how she ever imagined pressing her lips against his.   
  
His lips are blue and cold against her deep red ones. His face is white as a sheet. Everything about him is lifeless.   
  
She pulls away and begins pressing the heels of her joined hands against his chest, giving him rapid compressions in quick succession.   
  
Still, no response from Phil. His body stays limp.   
  
No. _No_. No. _No._ No.   
  
She won't let him go. _She won't_! Especially like _this._    
  
Her teeth chatter along with her shaky arms caused by the combination of the crisp air and the adrenaline beginning to wear off.   
  
_Time for another rescue breath_. She leans over and covers his mouth, blowing a deep breath of air into his lungs.   
  
She feels a rumble underneath her palms on his abdomen. Pulling away quickly, she stares in shock as his eyes pop open.   
  
He sits up quickly and turns away from her, beginning to cough roughly.   
  
She watches, stunned, as he spits up fluid, his shoulders shaking with the effort.   
  
Her hand wraps around his bicep and squeezes lightly, hoping to comfort him and let him know that she's here with him.   
  
"Phil...are you...okay?" She asks, voice quivering with emotion.   
  
He turns back around and pulls himself into a sitting position, still breathing heavily.   
  
"Melinda," he wheezes.   
  
She trails her hand down the length of his arm and grabs a hold of his hand, squeezing tightly. "You're okay," she reassures him. At the same time, she's also reassuring herself.   
  
She tampers down the instinct to ask him what happened. She would ask him later. Right now, he should be focusing on his breathing.   
  
"Simmons, get up here," she says. It's only after the words leave her mouth that she realizes that her comm device must've fallen out. She didn't even think to take it out before jumping in the water.   
  
Her hand searches in her jacket pocket and pulls out her phone. Now soaked and ruined. She can't even call for help.   
  
Before she can begin to freak out, she hears the pounding of multiple sets of footsteps on the dock. _Fuck._ She does not need that inhuman around here right now.   
  
She scoots herself in front of Phil, preparing herself to protect him at all costs. That is, until she sees a clearly rattled Daisy leading a flustered Fitzsimmons with a concerned YoYo and Mac pulling up the rear.   
  
"Oh my god," Daisy comments, eyes growing wide as she spots them.  
  
They probably look pathetic, huddled together, shivering, and wet.   
  
Simmons pushes past Daisy and runs right up to Melinda, grabbing a hold of her leg. "May...What-"   
  
She shakes her head at Simmons. "Check Coulson. I had to give him CPR."  
  
Simmons nods and moves away from Melinda’s leg over to Phil.   
  
Melinda sits there trying not to move an inch, the pain from her leg now incessantly throbbing. Her eyes squeeze shut in agony.   
  
She's startled as arms surround her on both sides. As she opens her eyes, she realizes its Daisy and YoYo helping her to stand up.   
  
"Come on," Daisy encourages her gently.  
  
She opens her mouth to object, wanting them to worry about Phil first, but YoYo beats her to it. "Mac and Fitz have your guy," YoYo comments with a sparkle of humor in her eyes.   
  
Melinda turns her head to see Mac and Fitz hoisting Phil's dripping form up. Simmons is touching Phil's face and prying his eyelids open, checking him over. He doesn't seem too fazed by it. He's obviously much too exhausted to object.

* * *

  
  
After a much needed hot shower and check-up by Simmons she gets the okay to leave medical. Simmons had fussed over her reopened wound and the possibility of infection from the "infested microbial waters".   
  
The downside to being released was not the thick layers of bandaging around her calf, oh no, it was the crutches that she now has to use for the foreseeable future.   
  
The plus side: she gets to finally check on Phil.   
  
She limps with the metal crutches digging into her armpits after each step. _Ugh_ , they were already pissing her off. She'll ditch them in a couple of days.   
  
She reaches the room that Simmons told her Phil was in and pushes the door open. There, she sees him sitting on the edge of the hospital bed with his legs hanging off of the side. A blanket is wrapped around his shoulders. Immediately, she notices that his face is grim with displeasure. She knows that he hates hospitals or anything to do with them. It brings back memories of his father's heart attack and subsequent death due to surgical complications.   
  
He looks over to her and flashes her a small smile.   
  
Slowly, yet steadily she hobbles her way over to his bed intending to stand in front of him. To her surprise, he pats the empty space next to him, inviting her to sit. Probably just because of the crutches, she tells herself.   
  
She lowers herself onto the mattress, leaving about two feet of space between them.   
  
"So?" She asks him.   
  
He sighs. "Just doing some tests, then I should be good to go. Jemma just wants to make sure."  
  
She nods. _Okay good_. Nothing major is wrong with him. He's okay. She can finally breathe easily again.   
  
She catches him staring at the white gauze around her calf muscle.

"Your leg..."  
  
"It's fine," she dismisses. And truly it is. It's cleaned up and she has pain medicine now, so it's fine.   
  
She can still spy the guilt in his eyes.  
  
"I made it worse," he says.   
  
She stops him before he can continue to blame himself. "Phil, its fine. I wouldn't tell you its fine if it wasn't. You know that. Besides, you're the one that stopped breathing today. I care that you're okay." Her hand reaches out and rests against his thigh.   
  
His eyes stare at her hand as if it was burning him. Just as she thinks about removing it, one of his own much larger ones covers it. This time, his skin is warm rather than ice cold from the lake.   
  
It's everything she wants at the moment. Just touching him was comforting. Feeling his skin, knowing that he's alive and breathing was all the reassurance that she needed.   
  
She glances up and realizes that he's staring right back at her. Their eyes lock and something shifts something that wasn't there before today. Her brain begins focusing on his lips. How they were so blue with the lack of oxygen. How they were dull and lifeless against her own earlier today. She can't help but flicker her gaze down to see what they look like now. They're colored with a deep pinkish-red hue. She wonders how they would feel now. If she leaned in and-  
  
A bang startles her, she pulls away from Phil and turns to see Daisy's approaching figure.   
  
"Hey, I just wanted to see how you were. You too, May," Daisy says, blissfully unaware of what she had just interrupted.   
  
As Melinda sits there, quietly enjoying Phil and Daisy's company she finally realizes what that shifting feeling between her and Phil was _. Worry._    
  
_Worry, that they were running out of time._

* * *

  
  
_Water.  
  
Fear.  
  
No oxygen.  
  
Darkness.   
  
She pulls him out.   
  
Tries desperately to revive him.   
  
It doesn't work.   
  
He's dead.   
  
Phil's dead.   
_  
Her mouth opens wide, trying desperately to suck air into her lungs. She sits up wildly in bed, gasping. It was just a dream. More like a nightmare, but it doesn't matter what she calls it. What matters is that it wasn't real. Phil is alive. She saved him. She got to him in time.   
  
So why couldn't she catch her breath?   
  
He's safe, but her mind is plagued with regret. She can't stop thinking about all of the things that could have gone wrong. He could've died had she hesitated or stayed in the van.   
  
She could've lost him. She almost did. Why did they keep wasting so much time?  
  
How could she have just sat there in that recovery room and not told him how much he means to her?   
  
Does he even realize how much she loves him?  
  
What if he would've died never knowing?  
  
Her chest feels tight again. Tears roll down her cheeks that she quickly swipes away. Tomorrow she would tell-  
  
A quick tapping at her door interrupts her thoughts.   
  
Her head snaps to the clock at her bedside table:  _3:06 a.m_.  
  
It's either an emergency or its Phil.   
  
She scoots herself off of the bed and hobbles over to the door on one foot. She doesn't feel like using the crutches right now.   
  
She pulls the door open and sees that it is in fact Phil. _Good_. She couldn't deal with another crisis right now.   
  
He's in a plain grey SHIELD t-shirt and blue cotton sleep pants. He's exhausted she can tell. His squinty eyes have dark circles under them. “I was hoping that you weren't asleep," he comments.   
  
She leans against the door frame for support. "Can't sleep. I keep thinking about what ifs. Again," she whispers.  
  
That was bold. She hadn't expected to even tell him that. But she was just so tired of hiding it.   
  
He nods solemnly. "Another close call. Too close. But lucky for me, you were there," he says, softly. "May," he pauses, smiling slightly. "Melinda. I....I'm just going to say this and I hope it doesn't make you uncomfortable or hate me but....I can't keep it in anymore."  
  
Her abdominal muscles tighten at his words and suddenly she wants to throw up. She swallows, then says, "okay." She meets his gaze. The seriousness within his eyes startles her. Her hand reaches for the door frame and squeezes, bracing for what he's about to say.   
  
He moves a little bit closer to her face. "I want you," he confesses, voice husky and deeper than she's ever heard.   
  
It's obvious what he means. What _else_ could he mean by that...nothing. He wants her. _Oh god. Yes.  
_  
His pupils are blown wide, another confirmation.   
  
She leans in, but can't get up high enough to kiss him. He's going to have to meet her halfway. Like everything else that they do.   
  
And finally, he does meet her, leaning down and capturing her lips.   
  
She feels his hand cup her face, pulling her even closer. The kiss is nice. His lips are soft and steady against her own. They stay still like that, reveling in the moment.   
  
It's warm and comforting, at first. Then, it turns into pure passion.   
  
His fingers thread through her hair, trailing down to press against the nape of her neck. His other hand reaches for her hip, pulling her body flush against his. Everything is touching now. Their boundaries have now flown out the window. She can feel the tight muscles from his thighs against her own legs and hips. Her breasts are now flush against his torso. She's wearing no bra and her nipples harden at the strength of his hands cradling her against him.   
  
He tilts his head as he opens his mouth and presses his tongue against her lips. Her jaw drops open and he pushes his tongue in. She moves her own against his and it becomes a silent duel like everything else between them.   
  
Up until now, she had been too shocked to act. Her hands are squished under her breasts, but now she turns them, grabs onto his t-shirt, and drags his body forward.   
  
They have to move this out of the hallway. She does not want to give anyone a show tonight.   
  
He barely reacts, just follows as she drags him into the room and then he's somehow able to swing the door shut with his foot. He does this all without breaking the kiss.   
  
She momentarily forgets about her leg wound as she's backing up and loses her balance. She falls backwards while pulling Phil with her. Luckily, her bed is right there to catch her. Her back hits the mattress as Phil's body falls on top of hers.   
  
They both land with a surprised _oof_ in a tangle of limbs. His weight is now fully pressed against her own. And she can feel his hardness against her stomach.   
  
She bites her lip in response. She looks up at him and finds him already staring at her.   
  
"Melinda..," he says, completely serious. "Do you want this?"  
  
She swallows hard. They are really doing this. "Yes," she responds.   
  
He grins, then leans down and captures her lips again. His hands now caress the exposed skin of her abdomen. The rough surface of his palms the perfect opposite to her smooth skin.   
  
She wraps both of her arms around his neck, her elbows resting on his shoulder blades. She presses her hands to the back of his head and uses her nails to scratch his scalp.   
  
At first, she's unsure if he likes it, but shortly after starting he lets out a deep groan of pleasure.   
  
He pulls his mouth away from her own. Then, begins trailing his lips down the length of her neck, lighting a fire as he goes. He stops at her pulse point and sucks a little harder causing her to gasp. Her eyes flutter closed at the strong sensation.   
  
Her breathing increases as he begins moving down again. She can feel the wetness pooling between her thighs already. God, she wants him.   
  
He pauses at her breasts. She thinks he's going to give them attention until he lowers his face to her chest and begins moving again, teasing her. He moves down quickly, then stops at the end of her shirt. Each of his hands grip the sides of her shirt and pull up. The material moves from her hips, over her stomach, breasts, chest, and then stops at her underarms.  
  
He moves his hands towards her own, which are now resting at her sides. He grips her wrists and guides her hands up above her head, successfully pulling the shirt off.   
  
She's topless now.   
  
His eyes focus on her nipples and his mouth soon follows.   
  
He lightly runs his tongue over her right nipple. The wetness and tip of his tongue teases her into full peak. He presses his open mouth against it and breaths hot air over her. She shivers in response. Her back arches off of the bed to get even closer to his mouth. She needs him everywhere now.   
  
He pulls away and moves over to her other breast, giving it the same attention.   
  
Her hands grip tightly at the bed sheets until she realizes that she could be squeezing Phil.   
  
He's a little too clothed at the moment. She cups his jaw in her palm and pulls lightly, signaling him to move away.   
  
"Shirt off," she orders.   
  
She would pull it off of him, but she's so ready for him to be naked that she really doesn't care who is responsible.   
  
His weight moves off of her as he tugs the shirt over his head and all she can think of is how much she wants him on top of her again.   
  
He's shirtless now, just as exposed as she is. Her eyes are drawn to the scar from the battle of New York. It's red and raised just over his sternum. It's exactly as she remembers it was from before, but now she is free to touch it however she wants. They had been building their trust of one another since that day in his office.   
  
She reaches out and lightly caresses it. It's rough with uneven scar tissue, but she doesn't care. It's a part of him and it saved his life, so she loves it.   
  
She can feel his rapid heartbeat underneath his skin and notices that he isn't meeting her eyes. He's nervous about how she'll react to the scar, she realizes.  
  
"Phil," she calls.   
  
His eyes are slow to meet hers.   
  
She feels a burst of emotion. "I love you," she confesses. She’s on her back. He's leaning over her. They're both shirtless, about to have sex. If they're going to do this, then they're doing it the right way. No more secrets or regrets. She would be a fool not to tell him now.   
  
His eyes widen almost imperceptibly, then dart all over her face searching for something. He laughs, but quickly covers it up. "Sorry.....I. I just can't believe this is real. That I'm not dreaming. I just- I'm happy," he pauses, swallowing. "I love you," he says completely serious again.   
  
Her heart pounds in response. He loves her. She is in love with Phil Coulson and he with her. _Finally._    
  
She wraps a hand around the back of his neck and pulls him down. She wants his bare chest against her own. And his lips pressed against hers.   
  
He's warm and solid against her. It feels fantastic.   
  
She kisses him with everything that she has, wanting to get as close as possible. His hips press against her again and he's even harder than before.   
  
They're both panting with anticipation now.   
  
She doesn't think that they can wait any longer. They're ready.   
  
Her hands grip onto the waistband of his pants and boxers. He instinctively lifts his hips, creating enough space for her to yank the pants off.   
  
When he rolls off of her, kicking the rest of his pants off she decides to surprise him by shedding her own leggings and underwear. It proves to be a little more difficult than expected when she has to take her time pulling the stretchy material around the bandage on her calf. But, she's able to get it off before he even turns around.    
  
Now, they're both completely bare. No boundaries between them.   
  
_Condom_. She flips her body around and scoots towards her bedside table, opening the drawer and finding one of the scattered packets that she knows are in there. She's had those in there for a while. It was always better to be prepared, just in case.   
  
She jumps in surprise at the hands around her waist. She didn't think he was paying attention to her yet. But apparently, he was.   
  
He helps her move back towards the middle of the bed and turns her around, so that they're facing each other.   
  
His hand finds her own and takes the little packet, ripping it open and pulling the latex out.   
  
She finally glances down to get a look at him. His penis is fully aroused, hard, and ready. He's a little bigger than the average length, which is good. Not some small thing that she wouldn't be able to ride at some point. That would've been disappointing.   
  
He rolls the condom on with a small groan at his own touch. The sound goes right to her core. She feels a rush of wetness in anticipation.   
  
She lies back, completely flat against the bed and spreads her legs for him. The sheets are a welcome cool contrast against her burning skin.   
  
He shuffles over, kind of in an endearingly awkward way and grips himself, pausing at her entrance. "Ready?" He asks.   
  
_Of course!_ She's been ready for over twenty years. "Yes. I need you," she begs.   
  
The hand that he doesn’t currently have poised at her entrance lands on her thigh and spreads her even wider.   
  
His tip teases her entrance oh so slowly. He moves, stretching her, allowing her muscles to conform to his shape.   
  
He pauses when he is in all the way. Phil's hips are fully pressed against her own. They are joined in every way.   
  
He bends over her and leans down, kissing her lightly.   
  
She can tell this is probably torture for him. His eyes are already squeezing shut trying to get a hold of himself.   
  
Her muscles begin twitching, so she bucks her hips into his without warning signaling him to move.    
  
He lets out a deep guttural _uhhhh_ in her ear in response.   
  
And then, it begins and she's floating on cloud nine. He isn't slow or gentle; he sets a bruising pace. It’s all fueled by passion and years of built up tension.

He pulls out almost all the way and then slams back in.   
  
A loud moan escapes her previously closed lips.  _Shit_. She has to stay quiet. It’s the middle of the night and they are on base with other agents around.   
  
He continues the pattern of moving out almost as if he's going to stop but then he slams back in even harder than the previous times.   
  
She moans each time, which seems to drive him on.  
  
She closes her legs tightly around him and tries to squeeze him while he's inside of her.   
  
"Oh uhh mm-Melinda," he gasps, face pressing against the sheets over her shoulder.  
  
They're burning up in both temperature and desire.   
  
He speeds up his thrusts, clearly close to coming. Thankfully, she is too.   
  
They're both groaning and panting at the sensations.   
  
Suddenly, she feels one of his hands under her right leg as he bends and lifts it, cradling it against his hip.   
  
This changes his angle and somehow he's able to move his body on top of hers even more. This way, his length hits her clit with every thrust.   
  
She can't take much more. "Oh god, Phil. I'm so close," she moans.   
  
He gives three more powerful thrusts and she comes, muscles twitching all at once.   
  
He follows her, shuddering to a halt over top of her and groaning as he comes.  
  
They both collapse in exhaustion and pleasure, trying to catch their breath.   
  
  
Being with him was _definitely_ worth the wait.   


//end//

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know how I did with the smut. It was my first time ever writing it. Thanks for reading!


End file.
